


In your Dreams, Snow

by Onlymostydead



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Confessions of love, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: It's the beginning of the first term of their eighth year, and Baz is in the middle of a massive depressive cycle.Simon can tell that something is going on with Baz, but the real question is what? Is it another plot, or... Or is he actually hurting?





	1. Baz

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent fic, I won't pretend it's anything else. Please don't read if it's triggering to you! Be safe <3

What Baz hated most about himself were the stupid things he couldn't change, no matter how much he tried. He could change how other people perceived him; that was easy. He could study harder and stay at the top of all of his classes. That... Admittedly wasn't as easy, what with Bunce around and all, but it wasn't as if it was impossible. He could scheme and plot and help his family in their different plans, usually with very little actual cost to himself.

But those things he couldn't do? Those were the things he couldn't abide. It was easy to make a couple of lists, to break it down. Not on paper, or blackboard, or anything of that sort, of course. Just a mental list.

Things he could change:

1\. How he looked to other people

Looking like a vampire was a choice, as much as it was a burden. No one bothered the tall boy with dark hair and pale skin about being a bloody vampire; it was just bad form. He could easily accuse them of being full of shit, or just saying that because he looked the way he did, and move on. So far, no one had said a thing about it. 

Except Snow, of course. Always Snow. If he could have convinced every student at Watford that he was a vampire, he would have, because he certainly tried his best for quite a few years there. It was obnoxious, of course, but nothing had come of it... Yet, at least. To his knowledge, only two other people believed it: Bunce, and Welbelove. And Welbelove only believed it because he had told her himself, after she caught him out hunting in the woods. 

2\. His grades

That was simple enough. No one else could change those, even though he was convinced a few of the teachers gave him lower marks than they gave Bunce on purpose. The Mage may be well on his was to destroying Watford, but he hadn't gone as far as to ruin his grades.

3\. How his family viewed him

Actually, that one should be off the list...

Baz hadn't meant for his father to figure out, but when that horrible little sister of his walked in on him watching "Love, Simon" and declared she would tell dad? That forced him into an acting situation. Which meant dinner that night became the longest and most awkward time he had ever spent at that dining table.

"Father, I have something to tell you." He had said in a cool voice, trying to keep an even tone.

They were about halfway through the main course. He hadn't eaten a bit, of course, but by now his stepmother wouldn't be too angry if dinner was 'ruined.' It was all about picking the times. 

"Well? What is is, Basilton?"

Baz swallowed. Now or never. "I'm not exactly straight."

"Straight on what, Basilton?" He seemed surprised, in between his bites of roast beef. "Your grades for the term seemed perfectly alright, if you exclude the Bunce girl, and that's how it's always been with that one. If you need assistance, consult the library."

"Not... That kind of straight." 

"What do you mean, then? Spit it out, now."

Thankfully, that was not the spell. Daphne watched with a confused look about her pretty little face, a perfect eyebrow raised just enough. That gremlin of a sister was just eating this up. Thankfully the twins weren't old enough to understand this, because they would have been enjoying this far too much as well.

"What I mean to say is... I'm queer."

"Of course you are!" His father exclaimed, clearly growing tired of this. "We all know that; you have to be one of the oddest fifth years out there, let alone at Watford. Just Spit it Out!"

This time, is was a spell, and Baz lurched forward a little bit in his chair. "I'm gay."

Baz thought he knew all about different kinds of death, but the stillness of the air brought a whole new meaning to 'dead silent.' It was as if everyone was afraid to breathe, afraid to eat. 

His father frowned, deep set lines were carved into his face, aging him far more than his white hair in a matter of seconds. "I will speak to you about this after supper."

Needless to say, that was the longest meal of his life, followed by the longest amount of time spent with his father not doing or saying anything, just sitting there. By now they had moved from the dining room, into a smaller, more private sitting room. The chairs were, in concept, comfortable, but Baz had never been so tense in his whole life. Not even when a spell he was trying out in third year didn't work like he'd intended it to, and his legs were stiff for two days.

"I don't like this." His father finally said in a low, glum voice. "What of your family name?"

Baz looked away in shame. Without him, the name 'Pitch' would die in the magical world. Well, without him or Aunt Fiona... And the likelihood of her passing on the family name wasn't very high.

"I hope, for your sake, and the sake of your family, that this is a phase. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, do you understand?"

No one called him by his full name, not even his father. Especially not his father; he hated the name Tyrannus. If he was going to say his full name, it was always just Basilton Pitch. But, apparently, this was bad enough to open new levels of his full name.

He swallowed. "Yes, father."

"Good."

And that was that. Admittedly, it wasn't the worst it could have gone, but... The sticky, aching feeling it left in his chest was like nothing else. Coming out was supposed to feel light, like become free, but instead... Now his whole body felt as if it was made of lead. Heavy. Hard. Cold.

Hungry.

Which was another thing about him he couldn't change, come to think of it. The vampirism. That he was simultaneously more and less at peace with, though, so it wasn't worth talking about it.

...except it was, and he hated himself for it. His mother hunted vampires, killed them, went down actively killing them. If she knew that a vampire was now attending Watford, she would come back to life just to kill him, he was sure. She would hate what he was. She would want him dead for real, rather than walking about like a hollow shell.

This kind of mood hit him once in a while, the kind where he smoked a lot of cigarettes and extinguished them on the soft skin of his inner forearm. The scars were puckered and old in some places, fresh bright red in others.   
That little bit of pain was only a fraction of what he deserved, but it's what he got. What he gave himself. No one saw it, anyway. Always being cold meant he didn't regularly wander around in just his shirtsleeves, even on days they didn't have to wear the awful uniform.

But, speaking of those phases... Maybe his grades weren't so secure, either. During those times it became so hard to focus that he'd sometimes get things wrong in subjects he already knew by heart. It was ridiculous. Worthless. He couldn't even get good enough grades.

And as for how people viewed him... Baz took a deep breath, staring at himself in the mirror.

As for physically, he could change that a little bit. He slicked his hair back with gel in the mornings, after he showered, but by this time it had fallen a little bit, sweeping across his face. But with the stark widow's peak, dark hair, and sickly pallor... He looked like a vampire, though and through. It almost disgusted him, sometimes. His skin would have otherwise inherited his mother's deep olive tones, courtesy of the Egyptian side of the Pitch family, but instead he was that same sickly white.  
But the rest, he knew, was attractive. His brows were dark and well defined, adding good structure to his chiseled face. Though his nose started quite high up, and was bent a little bit at the bottom, courtesy of Snow, it wasn't bad too bad. His lips were well shaped, and his jaw was fair.

People saw him as they saw his family: pretty on the outside, cold and dark on the inside. He talked a big game with their beliefs, but there were very few he actually thought were true.   
He could control how classmates saw him as in they saw him as a dignified, if bigoted, magician, not a bloodthirsty monster like he was.

Not like a gay disgrace to his family.

Not like he thought about dying every day.

That's what drew him to Snow, and he hated himself for it. Simon Snow was volatile. His magic was like a power surge, a fork in the toaster of the universe. That spark that started the fire, ready to burn him down.

It was the thing he hated the most, because everything reminded him of it.

His family hating the Mage, and thereby his heir, the insufferable Simon Snow.

His nose, broken at the bottom by the intolerable Simon Snow.

His vampirism, always brought to the surface when he's around the delectable Simon Snow.

The burns on his wrists, always reminding him of how he'll die one day. Burned to death by the horribly beautiful Simon Snow.

Maybe he knew that, maybe not... After all, Simon was one of the few people he really could control his image to. He presented himself as monstrous and evil, never giving him a chance. Every second that went by that he had an opportunity to push Snow away, he did. 

Mostly because he was too worried about what would happen if he let him get too close.


	2. Simon

Simon Snow was sure there was something going on with his roommate. Well, there usually was, but... It was something different, this time. He was sure of it.

To start, Baz didn't really seem like he was scheming. When he arrived for the start of the term he looked paler than normal. His hair lacked some of its normal luster. There wasn't that same shine in his dark grey eyes.

At first, Simon thought it was just how the summer had been to him. Some years tended to just be like that, though, more for himself than other people, especially someone like Baz. So why did he look so torn up? Maybe he had gotten sick.

"Can vampires even get sick?" He thought aloud, earning himself a light smack from Penelope. 

"What are you doing doing thinking about vampires? It's breakfast, and you've hardly touched your scones."

"Well, I've just been thinking about-"

"I know who you've been thinking about." She interrupted. "Thirty percent, and I really do mean that."

"I know, I know... It's just that, well, he looks so bad." Simon talked as he scooped a disgusting amount of butter onto a scone. "And it hasn't gotten a lot better since he's gotten here."

"Well, why don't you ask him?" Agatha offered. 

"Ask him if vampires get sick?" Penelope raised an eyebrow. "He's not going to answer that, even if he did admit it to you." 

"No, of course not." She frowned. "Ask him if he was sick."

"Why don't you ask him, since he trusts you so much?" 

"Penny!" Simon set down his scone. "What's gotten into you today?"

"It's... Nothing." She sighed, going back to her toast. "One of you should ask him, at least."

"Well, if you're so fearless, why don't you?" Agatha pointed out.

Penelope blushed. "It wouldn't be practical. Simon's his roommate, and he confessed that he's a fucking vampire to you over a midnight chat in the woods!"

"Shh!" She glanced over to where Baz was sitting, with his minions Dev and Niall. "For one, that was very loud, and he trusted me with that information because I found him out there. For two, I think you won't ask because you're in love with him."

"Love him!?" Penelope gagged.

While Simon and Penelope had sworn not to keep secrets from each other, there was no such agreement with Agatha and Penny, which made for some... Interesting problems. Such as the fact that Penelope was a lesbian with a massive crush on Agatha. Even if she could have a crush on Baz, too, it felt ridiculous to say it. They were just too much of rivals in everything they did for any kind of romance to develop. Penny was completely against all the things the Pitch's stood for.

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Agatha crossed her arms like a put out child. "That's why you tease me about it."

She laughed. "Really? Me? And him?"

And when Penny started laughing sometimes, she didn't stop until she was completely finished, complete with a little snorting sound that made Agatha blush.

"No, but seriously, look at him."

Collectively, and with completely different levels of subtlety, they all turned and looked at Baz. 

"Alright." Agatha shrugged. "What am I looking for? He doesn't look too bad, really."

"But he doesn't look good, either." Penelope pointed out. "Look at how thin he'd gotten, and how pale he is."

"He's always thin and pale." She grumbled, going back to her breakfast. "I'm sorry I don't pay that much attention to him."

"But never this much." Simon argued. "And of course, still not eating... Do you think there's something really wrong?"

"Why?"

"He just looked at me, but didn't smirk, or flip his hair, or look at me like I'm insane." Simon explained. "He just looked..."

He tried to come up with the word to describe the look in his eyes. Simon had never been particularly good at words, which made reading harder, which made it so his vocabulary was a bit lacking. Regardless of his own shortcomings, Baz looked... Sad. Lost. Done with everything.

"He looked like he doesn't care." He finally finished. "Baz always cares. Not for the right reason, but he cares."

"Do you... Do you really think he's still evil?" Agatha asked. "That's been weighing on me, recently."

Simon shrugged, looking to Penny.

"He's... Suspect." She finally decided. "Even if he's not evil, he's done some bad things."

"Like trying to feed me to a chimera." Simon reminded. "That was fucking awful."

"Or what happened to that one girl, fifth year, remember?"

He could remember exactly. Pip had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time... Still, he thought he had seen fear and remorse pass through Baz's eyes. He didn't think he was just imagining that.  
Why would he imagine that, anyway? It wast like he wanted his sworn enemy to not be evil... Right?

"Yes, those are definitely valid points." Penelope nodded. "I only wish I had a chalkboard. Him being a vampire would explain a lot of the sneaking and the late night actions, though."

"Such as the entirety of fifth year." Simon said through a mouth full of scone. "I swear I've followed him through every inch of those catacombs."

"So... Was there a conclusion to that?"

"The catacombs?"

"No, not that." Agatha shook her head. "To Penny's list."

"His morality is almost entirely grey." Penelope declared, simple as saying she preferred marmalade on her toast to jam. "Most likely some of his actions have been influenced by being a vampire, others by his family, in the bet case scenario. In the worst case..."

"He's just downright evil?" Simon guessed. "That's what we've been thinking all along, but... I'm not sure anymore."

Agatha shrugged. "Then why don't you figure it out?"

"It's not so simple, though, I..."

"You what? Don't tell me you're falling for Baz too."

Simon turned bright red. "Falling for-"

"See, you blushed. I think you are."

"Alright, though. This has gone far beyond thirty percent talking about Pitch. Can we move on?"

"But Agatha is here, too. Does that change it?"

Penny shook her head. "Absolutely not, now..."

***

Baz hadn't been showering in the mornings. Simon only realized that when he went to brush his teeth, and found himself a little chilly in the bathroom. Normally, Baz would have been in here for nearly forever, steaming up the whole tower, let alone the bathroom. This morning, and the few before it he realized, it had been cold.

Strange... He couldn't think of any evil plot that would prevent him from showering off in the morning, especially considering the fact that he had been leaving their room at his normal time. He may have been a freak about no one seeing him eat, but he wasn't so much a freak to put aside cleanliness for it. 

These things just kept getting stranger and stranger.

***

But it was out on the football field that Simon knew something had to be very, very wrong. Baz hadn't been playing very well, so maybe that's why he joined the smaller game happening after the official practice. There's no real teams, no real winner, but they have a lot of fun. Simon enjoyed it a lot; he never wanted to go out in an actual game, but these were plenty of fun. 

...though, at times, they weren't the most regulated. Usually it was just a few older students who watched to make sure nothing was done against the rules, but not today, apparently.

It all happened so fast Simon barely had time to comprehend it. An illegal move was made; he saw that part. Then a stocky fifth year named Charlie got angry at the offending student. After that, who knows. He may have rushed forward to get between them, expecting Baz to move-

But he didn't.

And they topped to the ground, Simon on top of him.

Like that, everything fell into place. He was filled with this odd urge to just lean down and kiss him, to kiss that beautiful mouth with his defined cupid's bow, not caring a bit about the teeth that no doubt lurked beneath. Baz looked beautiful, his hair falling around his head like a dark halo, coming down into that sharp widow's peak...

But he was hissing, eyes pressed shut, shoulders tense.

Simon scrambled off of him. "I'm sorry, are you hurt?"

"Only by your assumption that you could hurt me, Snow." He spat, sitting up and dusting himself off. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

He rose to his full height, an infuriating three inches taller than Simon, and stormed off the field. As he was walking off, though, he noticed something. Baz pushed up one of his sleeves once he was further away, looked at the forearm underneath, then pulled the sleeve back down. Then, as if that wasn't odd enough, he did the same on the other side.

Curious... And now, to tell Penny.

***

"He did what?" She cocked her head to the side, squinting from behind her large glasses. "That's so strange... You're going to have to figure out why, Simon."

"That's the thing: he never has his arms out." Simon explained. "We change in separate rooms, he always wears full sleeves..."

"Why..." Agatha pressed the eraser end of her pencil to her lips. "You're right. I've never seen him in just shirtsleeves, either. Though I'd imagine Penny'd like to."

Penelope swatted her arm. "Would you stop with that? Anyway... Things we know. Anyone?"

"Baz has looked sick recently." Simon piped up.

She added that to their list. "And we know that he did something suspicious with his arms."

"He hasn't been showering." He added.

"Gross, Simon." Agatha's nose wrinkled. "Why would you tell us that?"

"Because it's weird for him. He showers every morning, usually, and slicks his hair back then."

"It looks better around his face."

Penelope scoffed. "And you say I'm the one with a thing for him?"

"That was a matter of aesthetics, and you know it." Agatha crossed her arms. "Is that all we know?"

"Simon?"

"Well..." He shrugged. "I think he's been sleeping less, but I can't say for sure."

"I'll add it anyway... This just looks like how I get during a lonely half term break." Penelope commented. 

Agatha nodded. "Do you think he's just down about something? Also, should the fact that he's a vampire be on that list?"

"Do we know that for sure?"

"Of course we do." She frowned. "He told me himself."

"He could have been lying, you know." Simon pointed out. "It would make hiding evil plots easier if he had an excuse to sneak around the grounds."

Why didn't he want to say that?

Penelope shook her head. "That's too dangerous of an excuse; Agatha probably would have turned him in to the Mage if we hadn't all talked about it first."

"I would not have." She scowled. "I promised. And I know he's a vampire, or else he's something else with a whole lot of teeth."

"A lot of teeth?" Simon raised an eyebrow. "I've never noticed those before."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Vampires teeth are hidden until they... Feed." She looked at the blackboard, realization dawning on her face. "Crowley, of course! That's why he doesn't eat in front of people."

"Doesn't he only eat blood?" Simon asked. "If he's a vampire."

She shook her head. "That's a common misconception. Vampires need normal food, just not quite as much as a human, but..."

"Would they come out during mealtimes?" Agatha asked.

Penny nodded, crossing off the fact that he doesn't eat from the list. "Now that's explained, we don't need to try to consider it. Now then, what could it possibly be..."

"Things we don't know." 

"Yes, exactly."

"Pretty much everything." Agatha offered helpfully.

"Can vampires be in pain?" Simon asked, furrowing his brows.

Penny wrote that down. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well, when I landed on him-"

"Landed on him?" She blinked, eyebrows raised. "Care to explain?"

"We were playing football. Just a small game after the team finished practicing."

"Alright, that makes more sense, but..." Penelope fiddled with the chalk in her fingers. "Were you wearing your cross?"

He froze. "Well..."

"You haven't been, have you?" Agatha looked at him like he had grown another eye. "Living wth a vampire, and you haven't even been protecting yourself?"

"This isn't about Simon's bad decisions." Penelope shook her head. "The point is, he has no reason to have been in pain."

"Other than something to do with his wrists." Agatha added.

"Precisely."

"Maybe he got a tattoo?"

Penelope added that to the board: can vampires get tattoos?

Simon shook his head. "I didn't see anything dark on his arms."

"You sure got a good look." She raised an eyebrow. "Why were you watching so close? Normally that's not like you."

He felt his whole face go pink. "Well..."

"...do you actually have a thing for him?" Agatha looked taken aback. "That... Actually makes sense, now that I think about it."

"You seem awfully at peace with it."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She shrugged. "I don't like him. Penny?"

"Me neither. I don't even like men."

Agatha nodded. "There you go. Neither of us are even interested in blokes."

Simon blinked. "Well... I'm not gay. I just wanted to kiss him. Want to kiss him. Sometimes. When he gets all in my face, come to think of it... And sometimes I've wanted to run my hand through his hair... And I have always wondered if there's a reason he always changes separate from me."

Penelope nodded, took her child, and added a new point under "Things we know:" Simon has a massive crush on Baz.

"And I just now realized it!" He added. "I wouldn't say massive."

"You followed him around for an entire year, once. That's fairly massive."

Simon sighed, shaking his head, and let the girls continue their discussion. Still, though, he wasn't sure which was stuck in his head more: Baz's beautiful lips, or the haunting sadness in his eyes.


	3. Baz

Baz could always tell when Simon thought he was being sneaky. He always lingered weird, or pretended to do things for too long. There was not a subtle bone in his body.

He could also tell when he was about to try to start a conversation that he didn't want to be a part of. 

So far, he had dodged so many of those that he thought he was in the clear, by now. But, of course, Simon Snow could never just leave him alone.

"Hey, Baz, can I talk to you a minute?"

"No." He answered on reflex. "I have something I need to-"

But it was late. He had just finished the last of his homework, and he wasn't hungry enough to go out to hunt. There was nothing for him to say to get out of this convincingly, and no guarantee Snow wouldn't just follow him.

"Fine. What is it?"

"I'm just going to ask you outright." Simon swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "What's been going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" Baz scoffed. "Since when do we ask each other how things have been?"

"Since never, and I'm not starting now. I mean why have you been acting so strangely." He clarified, crossing his arms. "And you knew what I meant from the start."

"Why don't you go ask Welbelove? She'll give you the answer you're looking for... Or the confirmation, rather."

Siom sighed, running a hand through his curls. "I'm already aware of that; I meant other than the normal strange behavior."

Baz raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Well, you look sickly... Much more than normal. You've been bundled up more, like you're colder. You haven't been doing well in football, or our classes. It's like you're not quite there... And you've been skipping your morning showers."

He rolled his eyes, having prepared answers as he spoke. "I'm just getting over being sick, and I've been cold because of it. Football's been difficult with having been sick as well; my whole body is just a bit sluggish. And you should keep track of your own grades, not mine. Also, keeping track of when people shower is creepy."

Simon blinked. "Should I clap? Because that was all very rehearsed."

Baz glowered. "What answer do you want, Snow? Has the Mage gone and told you what the answer is, and now I'm wrong unless I agree?"

"No. You're being ridiculous." He crossed his arms. "Look, Baz... I saw your arms, when you were leaving the football field."

What little blood Baz had drained out of his face. All of a sudden his body felt heavy, weighed down like lead. His mind worked fast, but his words didn't seem to follow. It was that same, familiar feeling: being found out. 

"What did you see?"

"Baz, I'm not going to tell anyone." Simon scooted forward on his bed, until he was barely sitting on the edge. "But I could tell you were in pain, and wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Well, I'm alright." He answered simply. "You can stop worrying yourself about it."

"Then can I look?"

Baz nearly choked. "What?"

"Can I see your arms then, if you're alright?" He repeated.

Damn it.

"It's none of your business, Snow." Baz snapped, standing up from his place, taking a step closer.

"Anathema." 

"I know that." He sneered. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

But being so down had really gotten to Baz. Sure, he didn't feel hungry, but that didn't mean his body didn't need food. He was slow. Tired.

Simon lurched his arm forward, grabbing his wrist. For a moment they just stood there, staring at each other at a total standstill. Baz ran through his options in his head. He could try to wrench his hand from Simon's grasp, but unless his body thought he was about to get some blood, strength was not on his side. He could try to talk his way out of it, but he notoriously didn't think about anything. Basically anything else, from biting him to punching his beautiful face, would break the roommates anathema and get him kicked out of Watford for the rest of his life, however long or short that may be.

He could kiss him. After all, there he was, right there... Baz banished the thought.

Simon started to push up his sleeve with the other hand, but he grabbed his wrist. "Look, Snow, I don't know why you think this is alright-"

"What do you have that's so important to hide?"

And with those eyes looking up at him... He froze, releasing his grip on his wrist.

Baz tried to imagine what Simon was seeing for the first time; this has just become his arm, at this point. Round, puckered scars and scabs dotted the surface of his pale forearm, clear marks from extinguished cigarettes. Some were old and white, nearly faded entirely. Others were an angry, searing red. 

But it wasn't disgust on Simon's face; it was concern. Horror. Some sick combination of the two.

"Baz... Who did this?" He looked up, and they met eyes.

Immediately, Baz looked away.

"Don't tell me it was that awful father of yours." Simon growled; it was rare to hear that much anger directed at anyone but him.

The air started to feel magically charged.

"It wasn't." He answered. "And you've never even met him."

"The strange aunt?"

"No."

"Who, then?" Simon's eyes narrowed as he thought, brows furrowed until a horrible realization dawned on his face. "No..."

The magic faded from the air.

Baz looked away, trying to tug his arm free. "Come on now, Snow, this is none of your business."

Despite what he had just said, Simon wrapped him in a tight hug. He was conflicted; somewhere in the middle of hating this attention to his bad habit, having to pretend to despise Snow, and just wanting to melt into his touch, to enjoy this as long as possible.

Simon started to rock gently back and forth. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I'm not answering that, Snow." He intended for that to sound withering, but instead he just sounded cold and tired. "And let go of me."

Simon Snow, never one to listen, began rubbing circles into his back. "Look, I know we've had our differences, and you've tried to kill me, but... I hate to admit it, but I've grown fond of you."

Grown fond of... Baz was having a harder time resisting the hug the longer this went on.

"And I don't-" It sounded like Simon was crying. "I don't want you to be hurting like this."

"Well there's-" His body being ever the traitor, Baz relaxed into the embrace. "Nothing you can... do about it."

"You should talk to someone."

"No." He stiffened again, trying to push away. "I will not."

"I won't make you, but... There are a lot of people who would be sad to see you go."

"I'm not bloody suicidal." Baz rolled his eyes, still struggling. "Now will you let me go?"

"Will you promise to talk to someone?"

"Absolutely not." 

"Then no."

Baz fumed. "You're such a stubborn ass, Snow. I just want to go to bed."

"Not until you promise."

"Fine, I promise." He seethed. "Now let go of me."

True to his word, Simon let go. "Pinky swear it?"

"That's a stupid idea." He pointed out. 

Simon continued to offer his pinky. Finally, with an annoyed sigh, he accepted it. Magically sworn. Fuck this.

"Alright then, I'm going to bed." Baz declared, letting go and immediately heading to his wardrobe. 

He charged, in the bathroom still, and came back. To his surprise, Simon wasn't asleep yet when he came back out. He was just lying there, staring at the ceiling. Tears were still streaking down his face. Baz rolled his eyes, trying not to care, but... Seeing that it hurt him that bad to find out that he, someone who tried to kill him twice, was hurting himself? Hearing that he had gotten fond of him? 

Despite how tired he was, Baz found himself just lying awake like that too. Staring at the ceiling.

He may as well just talk about it now.

"I'm gay." Baz admitted, more the the ceiling than Simon, but knowing he was listening. "My father found out when I was back for half term break in our fifth year."

"I'm sorry." 

Baz snorted. "You don't have to pretend to understand, I just have to talk about it to get out of your silly promise."

"No, I... I realized recently that I'm not quite as straight as I thought before." Simon admitted, awkwardly forcing himself to speak.

Baz tried not to think about that too long, but he had to gl get a jab in. "What? Have a new school crush, since you and Welbelove aren't together anymore?"

"Agatha and I haven't been a thing in a long time, and... Never mind."

"Alright... And you already know what I am." He continued, hesitantly. "That doesn't make things easier."

"Would it kill you to admit it, though?"

Baz scowled. "Why are you so convinced I have to? The Mage is listening to everything, and he's just looking to kick me out of Watford as soon as possible."

"No." Simon argued. "He couldn't afford that kind of feud with the old families."

"True... I'm a..." He swallowed. "Vampire."

"See? Did that kill you?"

"No, but it wasn't pleasant."

"Wait." Simon paused. "Does it actually hurt you to-"

"No." Baz interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Not physically. But my mother... You know the story."

He let out a sad little sigh. "Yes."

"You think she would take kindly to a vampire son, if she were alive?" Baz gave a sad chuckle. "She would want me dead."

"That's not true." Simon blurted the moment he finished.

"How do you know that?" 

"Well, I-"

"You fucking don't." He stated, voice cool as could be. "Don't try to speak for her. In life, she hunted vampires. When she died it was her own spell that did it, so she wouldn't be turned. If her life wasn't worth living being... Dead, why would she think mine is?"

Simon, annoyingly, had fallen silent.

"So my family, which you so hate, already have two good reasons to hate me-"

"Two?"

"Yes, two, aren't you keeping track?"

He frowned. "Wait. Does being queer count?"

"Of course it counts, you idiot." Baz scoffed. "If I'm gay, I can't pass on my family name."

"Well... Why not?"

"By blood." He clarified. "It's all by blood."

"Well, you haven't got a whole lot of that to begin with."

Baz snorted, laughing a little despite himself. "You're the worst."

"I'm sorry, that was probably insensitive."

"No, it's..." He trailed off, tongue suddenly sticky I his mouth. "It's fine. Do you think that's enough for the promise?"

"Is that everything?"

Baz sighed, then started to list things. "I disagree with my family on pay political standings, but I back them to uphold my father's perfect unified front. I have three younger siblings, one of which things I'm a lunatic. My grades are dropping because I can't focus in my classes, because I can't sleep and I'm not hungry."

Simon didn't say a word, even as he took a breath.

He was surprised to find tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, but they felt more like tired tears than emotional ones, anyway. He really hadn't been sleeping.

"I'm just tired." He finally let go with a deep breath. "Tired of pretending to be all the people I'm not, to not love the person I do..."

Why did he say that? Baz's heart was pounding like a drum in his chest, telling him to act while is brain tried to order him to be silent. There was no winning this.

Taking another deep breath, Baz decided to tell the truth. "And I keep pushing him away because I'm afraid of what'll happen if I get closer. He thinks I'm evil and I... I'm sure, one day, he'll be the death of me. Being around him is like being near a fire; I want the warmth, but with it comes the danger of being burned. Even if my family approved of me being with men, he's the one I could never be with. Not and still be around them, anyway."

He looked over at Simon, who was frowning at the ceiling deep in thought. "You know, if I didn't know better... Wait. What?"

"It's you, Simon." He admitted through grit teeth. "It's always been you."

Simon looked over at him, shell shocked. His eyes were wide, mouth gaping open in surprise. "When we were out on the football field, the other day..."

Baz winced. "Yes?"

"When I fell on top of you, I wanted to kiss you. And it scared me, so I backed off, but... Then I started to realize how I always felt that way toward you, I just didn't recognize it." Simon blew out a breath of air. "I can't believe this."

"Me neither."

"Well, for now... May I ask something?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"So, vampires can be burned, obviously, but... Are they highly flammable, like texts say?"

"Yes. Yes they are."

Simon's eyes widened. "And you've been getting that close-"

"It's not that close."

"-I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." 

Baz's heart skipped a beat. "It wouldn't be your fault."

"But... We were cast together for a reason. And I used to think that reason was the Mage wanting me to keep an eye on you, but... The crucible is better than that." Simon swallowed. "I think we were cast together so we could look after each other."

"Simon, we're eighth years. So far it's been seven years of fighting."

"Well... How about a year of peace, to start to make up for it?"

Baz looked away. "I... Only if I continue to hate you in public. Deal?"

"Deal. Now get some rest, Baz."

"I would, if it wasn't so damn cold in here." He grumbled, pulling himself further under his blankets. 

"You know... I'm plenty warm."

"Are you asking to cuddle, Snow?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "If you'd like."

The way he asked... Baz swore he could ask for the world and he would just hand it over.

"Fine."

He pushed himself out of his covers, quickly crossed the cold floor of the room, and slid himself under Simon's covers. He was right; it was plenty warm. But still... He was right there. The only thing between then were their pajamas.  
Begging his filthy mind to cease, Baz rested his head up a near his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Goodnight, Baz."

"Goodnight, Simon."

He chuckled. "Do that again."

"Do what again."

"Call me Simon."

"In your dreams, Snow."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at Supertinybooks or Supertinywords! 
> 
> Requests are momentarily on hold, but they'll come back soon.
> 
> Comments are love <3


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